Six months had passed since Youri first set foot on Laspeas, and in that time the city had carved itself into him as deeply as any scar. Vegas didn't simply change people; it stripped them down, broke them apart and rebuilt them into something sharper, or meaner, or stronger. With Youri, it had done all three. He had arrived with little more than a name, a past he refused to talk about, and a body that had already known far too much pain. Now he moved through the city as though he belonged to it.
Laspeas had taught him survival in its rawest form. It had taught him to read eyes instead of words, to sense danger before it announced itself, and to gamble not only with money but with reputation, blood and will. In six months he had gained allies who trusted him with their lives and enemies who whispered his name through clenched teeth. He had learned that respect in Vegas was never given — it was taken, or earned, or beaten into existence.
In that short time, he had won seven underground fights. None of them were clean. None of them were easy; every one had taken something from him, skin or bone or breath, and every one had given him something back — experience, fearlessness, and a growing legend. And he had done something far more dangerous in the eyes of powerful men: he had beaten the odds at their tables. Blackjack, roulette, the high-stakes private rooms. He didn't cheat, and he didn't hustle. He simply won. And men who were used to always winning had noticed. Big names watched him now — the kind of men who didn't clap or shout or care about spectacle, who placed quiet bets worth more than most people's lives and waited patiently to see whether the world would bend their way.
Tonight, it would. Youri was booked for a fight that had been whispered about for weeks — not just another bout, but a statement — and some of the most powerful figures on Laspeas had already put heavy money on him. Malkom. Sincron. Carter. Names with power and blood behind them. If he won tonight, his name would be carved deeper into the city's underworld than ever.
Earlier that evening, Lux was alive as always. Youri sat at the bar with a low glass of whiskey resting loosely in his hand, watching the amber catch the neon as he tilted it, while the bass thumped steadily through the walls. Leo sat beside him with his elbow on the counter and his head propped on his hand, half watching the crowd. Behind the bar, Gloria was wiping glasses with practiced ease and missing nothing.
She glanced up at Youri. "Aren't you supposed to have a big fight tonight?"
Leo answered before Youri could. "Yeah. Another rematch."
Gloria stopped in mid-motion. "A rematch with who?"
Leo straightened a little. "Zeus."
Gloria froze for half a second and then turned slowly to Youri. "And you didn't tell me?"
Youri raised his glass and took a small sip. "Why? You want to bet too?"
She chuckled and shook her head. "Maybe. You're on a winning streak. It would have been a nice bit of extra money."
He smirked. "It's not too late." He finished the whiskey in one smooth motion and set the glass down, then stood, rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, the familiar sounds grounding him. "Time to go get ready."
But before he had taken more than a step, something shifted. The door of Lux opened. A man walked in wearing the uniform of the Terrian High Command, and his presence cut through the noise without the slightest effort. He moved calmly and confidently, as though the chaos around him simply didn't exist. His boots struck the floor in a steady rhythm all the way to the bar. Youri turned — and stopped cold.
Barnaby.
For a moment the whole club seemed to fade, the music dulling and the lights blurring. Barnaby wore the same calm, infuriating smile Youri remembered. He took off his cap and set it on the counter as though this were nothing but a casual reunion. "It's been a while," he said lightly.
Youri stared at him, and then sat back down slowly. "I can't say the same."
Barnaby chuckled and turned to Gloria. "Rum, please."
Gloria raised an eyebrow, plainly curious but every inch the professional. "Sure." She poured it and slid it across. Barnaby took a slow sip and breathed out. "I've missed a good glass of rum."
Youri leaned forward with both hands on the counter. "So what are you doing here?"
"Nothing special," Barnaby said. "I brought my daughter. She's never seen Laspeas, and I thought she deserved to."
Youri scoffed softly. "You've turned into a family man now?"
Barnaby smiled. "I always was one."
"That's news to me."
Barnaby didn't rise to it. Instead he reached into his coat, took out a tablet and slid it across the counter. "There's something you need to see."
Youri picked it up, and the headline hit him at once. Rebel uprising on Volar.
His jaw tightened. "What is this?"
"A few years after you left, the balance of power shifted," Barnaby said evenly. "The far-left party won the election, and things began to change — slowly at first. Then they started openly opposing the Empire. And today, they declared full independence."
Youri looked up sharply. "What does that mean?"
Barnaby took a long breath. "It means Volar is about to be erased."
Youri was off his stool in an instant, anger flaring. "I have to get Liam and Emma out of there." He turned to go, but Barnaby caught his arm.
"Wait." Youri stopped, every muscle tense. "Even if you got on a ship right now," Barnaby went on, "you wouldn't make it. The only landing station still open to outsiders is the Terrian base in the far east, and it's under constant attack. It's locked down. Only military personnel are allowed through."
Leo spoke for the first time, carefully. "Youri… you've still got the fight tonight. Are we going?"
Youri looked down at the floor with his fists clenched. The weight of all of it pressed down on him at once, Vegas and Volar, blood, bets and fate. He thought of Liam crying on a warehouse floor, Emma waving to him across a crowded street, Casey telling him to be safe out there. After a long silence, he lifted his head.
"I'll deal with that first," he said quietly.
Tonight, the fight came first.